Realism
by KRenee
Summary: After a long day of sweat, blood and hard work, Nick and Rochelle need to wind down for the night. You're going to wish you're been left for dead... Nick x Rochelle


_**Realism**_

This story is rated **M** for **Mature** for a reason, by the way. I mean, incase you couldn't figure that out on your own.

…

Ellis and Coach had been asleep for hours already, and the sounds of the night were all that was keeping Nick from enjoying a peaceful sleep. Ever since the infection, apart from a significant lack of boobs and butts to ogle at, things had been going pretty swell. He'd been able to murder several hundred people already, and nightmares had yet to become a problem. At one point, he thought he saw Ex-Wife No. 3 being shot down by his Scar, but that could've been a fluke or something. Rochelle had, with the other two unlucky/lucky bastards, taken a bedroom. They'd left Nick on the couch downstairs, because they were just that; bastards.

He heard the sound of creaking steps, shutting his eyes to feign sleep. He clearly wasn't doing a very good job at it, because he could feel a small, extremely calloused hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently.

"Nick…" He heard Rochelle whisper softly, her voice rather raspy from all the screaming she'd been doing that day. He slowly opened his eyes, scratching at his lice-covered head as he slowly sat up. His steel gray eyes practically glowed in the slight amount of moonlight that was peering through a nearby window.

"Rochelle?" He replied quietly, waiting to hear what she had to say. She leaned forward until their noses almost touched.

"I can't get to sleep." She hissed as Nick instinctively held his breath to avoid intoxication. He stared at her, smirking as he got the idea that she was hinting at. She didn't wait a moment later, leaning forward and pressing their cracked, bloody, dry lips together in a passion kissing. She could taste his breath whenever she inhaled, the scent like molding bread and old cigarettes. They pulled back briefly as she crawled onto of him, the smell of B.O. and blood filling the air as they hastily removed clothing.

Nick could see the tightly wound bandages around her stomach and chest, from where she'd been attacked by a Hunter earlier that day, but he paid it no mind as he leaned forward, running his blistered hands under her bra. Rochelle ran her fingers through his greasy hair as she threw back her head, barely having to work hard to look sexy at this time. She could feel Nick's hand working carefully as he took off her bra and dropped it to the mucky floor while cupping his lips over her sweat-salty breasts. As he was unbuttoning her pants, she raised an arm to push her hair out of her face, revealing her incredibly hairy armpits. It was nothing compared to Nick's armpits, of course, but it was almost nauseating to see that kind of thing on a girl.

But that didn't stop or even deter Nick's boner as he worked off her pants while she was busy unbuttoning his. They knew they had to be quick, considering the fact that Coach was a relatively light sleeper. Nick had no idea if Rochelle was a screamer or not, so he couldn't determine whether she'd possibly wake up Ellis as well. And even if she did wake the others up, orgies were always on his list of things to do.

Their clothes were shed, dropped to the floor and otherwise abandoned. Nick ran his hands up Rochelle's hairy legs, 6 weeks of growth gone unshaved. She cupped his cheeks and leaned forward, wanting affection despite the fact that they both knew Nick was only in on it for the sex. Affection was Ellis' domain.

Rochelle smirked as she dragged herself down his legs, licking her lips sexily as she took his entire length into her mouth. Nick's eyes widened in surprise as his breath left him in a hiss. Her lips closed around his shaft, and with a jerk of his body, Nick came approximately four times rapid fire, filling Rochelle's mouth with a porn-star load, which she handled quite well. She swallowed every drop, and looked up at him seductively. Nick gasped for air, smiling maliciously at her as he all but tackled her to the couch, wasting no time in thrusting into her. He came again, deciding that his premature ejaculations were due to an increasing lack of sex, but didn't stop there as he went about his business of pounding into her hot, tight pussy over and over.

The woman had to bite her tongue to hold back the cries of pleasure, her smelly body shivering ecstatically as she came in unison with Nick. They collapsed onto the couch in exhaustion, nearly falling off because it was simply way too small for the two of them to be screwing on.

"Rochelle…" Nick breathed into her ear, his scratchy, six weeks unshaven beard tickling her throat. She ran a hand through his now-even-greasier hair, ignoring the sticky feeling in her fingers.

"Nick…?" She replied softly, her voice akin to a purr. He sighed heavily, pulling up and cupping her cheeks with his hands, before leaning for and kissing her gently on her cracked lips.

"We _really_ need to find a shower that still works."

Rochelle nodded seriously, "Yea, I've been looking, trust me."

There was a long, long pause, "So…" Nick finally spoke awkwardly, "You think you can sleep now?" Rochelle blinked, but got the hint as she jumped out from underneath him and hastily put her clothes back on.

"Yea, yea…" She replied, "Sorry. I…"

"No, no, it's fine. I know you like to hang out afterwards…" Nick said sheepishly, "I mean…"

"No," Rochelle replied, "It's okay. We hung out afterwards last time. I forgot is all, sorry."

Nick nodded, "Yea… okay…" There was a pause as he tugged his filthy pants back on, "So… Good night?"

"Yep," Rochelle replied from the stairs as she waved over her shoulder, "Good night. See you tomorrow, Nick."

"You too."


End file.
